The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1887-06-09

hurT1edly working at a port
able easel, which was set up on a level
spot on the grass, with all the COM
posure and aplomb of a young man who
felt himself to be in the right place in
creations diagram. She looked at him
with solemn, sleep-shadowed eyes; he
looked back at her exactly as if she was
a part of the landscape, and worked
steadily OF in silence.
care you an artist?" said she. "Are
you painting the old chestnut-tree?
Oh. you must be the gentleman that
Docia Honeywell told me about" And
then she suddenly remembered the
tangled fringe of curls, the round, un-
covered arms. and jumped up in a
panic of very becoming confusion.
IL am Mark Jeffery," said the artist,
composedly. Eyes, 1 am boarding at
Squire Honeywell's house. And yonP"
Il am Roxy Stephens" said the girl,
hurridly pulling down her calico
sleeves. eff you will just step up to
the house I will give ajar of wild plums
that 1 promised to Docia; that is" with
an abrupt consciousness of her temer-
ity,) '.if you don't mind carrying it."
And this was the manner of their
first acquaintance.
Roxy was very sorry when Mr.. Jefferys
returned to the city. 1t seemed as if his
absence left a yawning hiatus in her
life, which had not previously been
.eventful or rich in incident. But she
did not know how more than sorry
Mark Jefferys was to part from her.
"'Full many a foweri is born to blush
unseen, he quoted to himself, after
the hackneyed style of the young man
in general when the little winged god
has him at a disadvantage. .But she
shall not blush unseen if my pictures
in this years exhibition bring their
price. She shall be my wife-always
that she considers me worthy
of the treasure-trove of her love. /
will wear her like flower on my heart.
1 think-yes, I think she likes me a lit
tie now. I am quite sure that if I had
the chance I could make her like me a
little more"
And so now and then he ventured to
write to her, lest by any chance she
might forget that such a person ex-
listed.
Now in real life things will some
times happen as strangely as they do
in novels. Every one knows this. And
it came to pass hat in the mid-April
time, when skies above and violets be-
low are blue with a blueness that no
description can equal, Docia Honey
well came up to New York to buy her.
self a silk dress, and asked RoxannaI
Stephens to accompany her.
81 never like to trust entirely to my
own taste, said Docia; land you have
such excellent ideas of color, Roxy
When the dress was duly settled
upon-one of those delicious olives
which, like the hair of the poets hero
inc, was
Brown in the shadow, and gold in the sum
there was yet a good hour and a half
to spare before the train went.
"Oh, do let us go to the Academy of
Design!" said Roxy; ..it can't be far.
And I think it would rest my eyes to
look at some pictures"
1t was a fine, sunshiny, breezy after
noon, and all the world was out. Roxy
came slowly up the broad marble steps,
looking around at the giant palms, and
the caoutchouc leaves, and the monster
camelia-trees, whose dark green foliage
shose as if it had been vanished. Be-
yond glowed the pictures, outlined in
gold, full of vivid lights and deep,
mysterious shadows. A little crowd
had collected before one particular can
vas, and following the usual impulse OF
human nature, Docia and Roxy left the
other pictures-possibly possessed OF
equal merit--unsurveyed, and joined
the futtering, perfumed knot of gaz-
ers.
''The picture of the season." she
heard some n saying in the soft, dis
tinct tones that denote your society
oracle; ".La Jolie Blanchisseuse.
Would you believe that that little
square of canvas has been sold for a
thousand dollars? It's a charmingly
painted thing-oh, of course-but, after
all, what is there to itp"
at is the sentiment, the toner an.
swered a wise critic who was penciline
down notes for an art paragraph in the
next days Sphinr. ''In this age of the
world nobody can tell what's going to
succeed and what isn't. The public
pulse don't bear feeling as it used"
Little Roxy, in her plain brown gown
and the poke hat of rough-and-ready
straw, with the loops of cherry ribbon
which she herself had sewn on, stood
on tip-toe to peep over the shoulder Of
the tall lady in front of her at the
picture.
"Ah, Docia" she cried, starting
back, as she caught a glimpse of it,
with the strange sensation of n who
looks into a mirror, al have seer
that before"
In the foreground a crystal-cleal
brook gurgled away under a fringe Of
luxuriant crosses; in the middle dis
lance there vas the green mystery o.
chestnut shadows on the grass, and
a young girl asleep, with bare white
arms, and sun-bonnet fallen down hel
neck, while an open book lay on the
ground. A red-winged blackbird
balanced itself on a bush at her right
and in the background a line full O.
fluttering clothes seemed to come and
go at the signal of the wind. On,
could almost hear the murmur of thu
brook, almost see the stir of the tai
grasses in the yellow mist of the noon
tide heats. 1t vas a very simple picture
to be sure, but it is the simple pictures
that speak to peoples hearts now
adays.
Docia stared intently. cit looks lik,
you, Roxy" she said, land that is thu
very chestnut-trce with the hollow
heart that blew down in the cquinoc
tial gale last March. Have you fount
the number in the catalogue? VIII.
painted it. All, l thought so-Marl
Je~fferys,h